


I Shall Believe

by SC182



Series: Misplaced Things [2]
Category: Batman Beyond, Justice League, Smallville
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Magic, Memory Alteration, Second Chances
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-16
Updated: 2013-06-16
Packaged: 2017-12-15 03:24:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/844740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SC182/pseuds/SC182
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Come to me now</i><br/>And lay your hands over me<br/>Even if it's a lie<br/>Say it will be alright<br/>And I shall believe</p>
<p> </p>
<p>This is a sequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/844667">Deny You, Me, and Us</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Shall Believe

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from "I Shall Believe" by Sheryl Crow.

Mercy had dutifully separated his mail between business and social, though when business and social mixed, the pile became even slimmer. At the level of CEO, he didn’t receive bills, just legal documents concerning stock and trade, government correspondence, and the occasional letter from his lawyers. Announcements to social events always came in larger square envelopes, some stylish and tasteful. Others garish and eye-catching in a way that proclaimed the sender’s desperation for money.  
  
He sorted through the stack, his hands landing on the plain white envelope that had no address or name.  
  
A blank envelope.  
  
He tore it open and pulled out the letter.  
  
There was some nonsensical gibberish written inside. He was tempted to rip it up and reading other pieces of mail, but he stopped himself. Mercy had to have let this through for a reason.  
  
This was more of a whim that got him moving. The desire to break the monotony of reading and signing papers. He’d indulge himself in some mystery. As he walked up towards the stairs that led to the roof, he wondered idyll if this was the precursor to a kidnapping scheme. Mercy was already standing by; there was a possibility of feeling almost pity for his would-be captor. Their lives were already over; they just didn’t know it yet.  
  
On the roof of the LexCorp building, all of Metropolis sparkled. His city. The domain he fought long and hard for and would keep at any cost. A wondrous horizon of millions of illuminations radiating out from the building in a circle that seemed limitless. Sights like this resurrected the poet in Lex. It was as though the earth and the heavens merged into one celestial body of light.  
  
At the corner of his reverie, he expected to be interrupted by the sight of his true and constant foe cutting through the night sky. He wasn’t in the mood for an evening chastisement nor recriminations about past, present, and future evils. The alien was the current persistent thorn in Lex’s side. It easily took the place of his father. Unlike with Lionel, he was given the benefit of watching the alien dodge kryptonite bullets.  
  
Lex checked his watch. Annoyed, he wasted a good five minutes, he turned around to walk back to the stairs, only to catch sight of another plain white envelope taped to the door. It hadn’t been there before. Had it?

  
His designer shoes tapped against the cement as he approached the missive cautiously. Light, minimally so. One didn’t need x-ray vision to know there was no bomb within the envelope.  
  
 _Another chance. A new start. Make of it what you will._  
  
‘Walk around the exit and claim your new day.’  
  
Lex closed the card and stared down at it. Far more cryptic and intriguing that its claims of optimism were written in Latin. He slipped the card into his suit jacket. When his hand emerged, it was filled with the cold steel of his newest accoutrement for personal protection.  
  
There was fairly little sound on the rooftop. The errant noises from the street level reached the rooftop erratically. He reached the last corner of the exit before stopping gun drawn and listening for signs of life. He rounded the corner to find no one, save for a larger red bundle.  
  
Lex tested the give of the bundle with the top of his foot. There was definitely someone or something within the confines of the red net. He touched it and realized he’d felt the fabric before, in fact, his scientists were trying to mimic the samples he’d acquired during his various missions/assists to the Justice League or the vigilantes in the sky as he liked to remind people.  
  
In this stomach, there were dueling sensations of dread and excitement. Who was bagged and tagged on his doorstep? Kneeling beside the quite large bundle, he could tell that the occupant was breathing. He cut the plastic restraints off the knot of the tied fabric. He pulled back the various swaths of cloth ; each rolling down like the peel of a banana. First, a shock of hair…dark like the night sky is revealed. Then, golden patches of skin.  
  
When all the material fell, he found himself rocked—sent hurling back to a time many years before; a dark road in the dead of night. The sleepy body spread across the ground, making the road an unintentional bed instead of the comfortable one waiting for him back at the quaint farmhouse.  
  
Clark still looked the same. Beautiful and at peace in his far off land of slumber. Of course, he and the owner of the cape saw each other quite frequently. He and Clark actually didn’t see each other much. Mainly due to the demand of the Big Blue Boy Scout, the Planet, and another matter that Lex was scornfully aware of for the last year and a half.  
  
Lex looked around, eyes trying to spy where the gift’s deliverer could hide. His hand stilled as he reached out to touch Clark’s head, instead opting for his shoulder. He shook him roughly. “Clark.” Those green eyes opened and Lex girded himself against an immediate accusation. None came.  
  
Clark remained silent. Green eyes moving about until they landed and stayed steadily on Lex. Breaths low and eyes not quite seeing. “Where am I?”  
  
Lex tried to lift Clark into a sitting up position. “I’m not sure how you got here, but I was alerted that you were here on top of LexCorp Towers.” Clark rested against him, unable to fight simple gravity.  
  
“Lex.” Clark said against Lex’s shoulder. His breathing picked up as if the act took the breath out of him.  
  
This was like a ghost resurrected and vengeful after being long buried. For five years, he dreamed, almost nightly of those green eyes turned on him, soft in the dusky light, voice low and savored, directed at him as those supple lips part and whisper his name.  
  
“Lex.”  
  
This was a nightmare. Clark was completely disrobed save for a pair of royal blue briefs that usually filled Lex with contempt as he watched his former schoolmate and business rival peel them off golden skin.  
  
“Let’s get you up,” Lex said as he began to pull Clark to his feet. He tried to give Clark some modesty by covering his body with the cape. He signaled Mercy at the top of the stairs and let her know conditions were safe. She’d know by his tone that danger wasn’t present.  
  
A split second before taking Clark to the office, he took him to the penthouse instead. He went to the guest room. He tried to get Clark into bed, but succeeded in first banging him against the doorframe. When Clark settled against the bed, he noticed the red spot on his hand for the first time. Blood pooled on Clark’s palm as it flowed down from the cut above his wrist.  
  
Clark didn’t seem bothered in the least, when he really should have been. Lex was worried about the implication and allowed himself to not think of what any of this could mean. He’d give Clark somewhere to stay for the night, patch him up, and send him on his way to his billionaire boyfriend.  
  
The next morning when he woke up to the sight of Clark still asleep in the guest bedroom, Lex watched with baited breath. He wouldn’t hope. He wouldn’t take the card’s words to heart. He left clear instructions for the housekeeping staff to alert him when Clark was up.  
  
He strolled into the penthouse and readied himself for the waiting round of accusations. Clark’s hair, longer now than ever and unruly, stuck up in a series of odd angles.  
  
“Sleep well?” He asked from the doorway.  
  
“Yeah,” Clark rubbed his eyes. “Like a rock.” He flexed his bandaged hand and pulled up the white stripes of tape. Lex watched, expecting to see unmarred skin. Instead, a welt red and less angry stood out. “It still stings.”  
  
“I can see that… Clark.” Lex sat on the side of the bed. “What happened last night?”  
  
Clark opened his mouth and closed it. “I don’t know….I went to work, went home, and then I was here.”  
  
Lex knew how to read Clark. And that was an honest answer.  
  
This was a good opportunity. The opening he needed. “I wouldn’t want you to be in harm’s way. Why don’t you stay here?”  
  
There was no protest. A nod of assent. “Are you sure?”  
  
“Very.”  
  
“Sure.”  
  
In the days that Clark spent with him, Lex found himself simply staring at him. It was different from those lusty looks that always arose whenever he’d been in Clark’s presence. These harkened back to the days when he was trying to assess the nature of Clark’s secret. He knew the secret now and several more. This was Clark Kent in front of him. What had caused this? Kryptonite. Nanotech. Mind Control. A clone. Possession. No, this was Clark.  
  
Clark’s third night in the penthouse after they finished dinner, they were taking the course of the conversation easy and light. They talked about everything and nothing. It was all very comfortable, making the penthouse seem more like a home, rather than a sleek resting place.  
  
There were no signs of tension or the heavy burden of secrets. Lex sat next to Clark on the sofa. “Stay with me.”

Clark watched him, and assessed the sincerity of his words. “I have work.”  
  
“They aren’t expecting you.” Lex responded.  
  
Clark smiled. “Okay.”  
  
He kissed Clark and suddenly allowed himself to believe. It wasn’t the best kiss, yet it was soft and supple and just so right at healing all that had ever been wrong between them. It was a kiss of rectification. A kiss of forgiveness. A kiss of a new tomorrow.

“Come on.” Lex took Clark by the hand and led him towards the back of the penthouse. Since Clark was staying, the only place he’d sleep was beside Lex. It had been delayed long enough as it was.  


* * *

  
There were days in between Clark agreeing to stay with him and the night of the gala where Lex swore he was dreaming. Waking up to the golden skin and taunt muscles of the one person who had always mattered did something to him. Made him feel simultaneously relaxed and hyperaware of his surroundings. Just a bit paranoid that there were forces that would take it all away just as easily as their union had been given.  
  
On the top of his list sat Bruce Wayne. Former friend and competitor, the loser for now in the one area that had stakes for which Lex had hungered.  
  
Standing aloof in a corner, it would appear that all was right in Bruce Wayne’s world. Bruce was a good actor. One of the damned best Lex had ever seen. However, Lex had the advantage of knowing him when he was in school as a serious, but somewhat cheerful child. Bruce and dedication went hand in hand. That was why Lex didn’t believe for a second the feckless routine or that Bruce could simply forget about Clark.  
  
The latter was impossible.  
  
As friends, enemies, or just faces passing in a crowd; it was impossible to forget Clark Kent. Bruce’s arsenal of talent made him perfect for his other extracurricular activities. In that sense, Lex could understand the development of a relationship with Clark.

Yet, there was also the undeniable sense of triumph. He’d watched them—had been watching them for too long now, whenever they deigned to bring their rendezvous to Metropolis. In Clark’s bed, the only real luxury item in his apartment, Clark would be splayed on his back, eyes closed or partially there as Bruce’s dark head drifted all over his body, stopping and stuttering, investigating and cataloging like a collector of fine and rare beautiful acquisitions.  
  
Clark was fine and rare. Every touch. Every kiss. Every whisper. All elicited some sound in response, totally open and free. He was wanton and free and so open. It was torture for Lex to watch. Misery to try to will himself to not react, grow hard and wish he could replace Bruce there hovering over Clark’s unnaturally hot skin. It should have been him reaching that place inside; the one that made Clark gasp and arch up on the sheets and fall back down like a windless sail.  
  
He’d earned that position in Clark’s life years ago. He’d paid the price through blood, sweat, tears, and the dedication of his heart to the one person he saw as an equal.  
  
Lex usually wore gloves the morning after watching the feeds. He’d bite his knuckles until they’d bleed and he’d didn’t need Mercy to be concerned about his self-destructive pastimes.  
  
So, Bruce hovered in the corners, making polite and easy conversation. He appeared as any good son of industry should—if one didn’t know him better. He was on his guard looking for something or someone, and Lex would risk his entire fortune on saying that it was Clark.  
  
It was like a scene out of a movie as Lex watched Bruce’s gaze finally land on Clark, and Clark being completely unaware of the sudden scrutiny he was under. Those piercing blue eyes screamed tormented emotion and relief at the sight of Clark. They moved discretely to a corner and Lex found it time to make his entrance.  
  
He staked his claim and held Bruce’s eye the entire time. His grey eyes chanted, ‘I won. I don’t know how, but there will be no going back.’  
  
As they walked away from Bruce’s sad little corner, Lex’s hand remained in a firmly proprietary position upon the small of Clark’s back. He could almost feel bad for Bruce. He’d had Clark walk away from him far too many times.  
  
He _almost_ pitied Bruce.  
  
Then, he remembered this was Bruce he was talking about and the prize at stake was Clark.  
  
So, he didn’t.

* * *

  
This was a vacation of sorts. It would be as long as he could get away with it. His confidence was often mistaken for arrogance, which really didn’t bother him, especially when he considered how good it felt to be Lex Luthor.  
  
He gave the housekeeping staff paid vacation, because having Clark this close has made him unpredictable and spontaneous in ways that could be embarrassing. Lex has had sex many times the world over, yet what he and Clark had been up to could only be described as making love.  
  
His bed had seen them in many variations. Clark on his back, on his stomach, on his knees, clutching the headboard, straddling him—And Lex had returned the favor almost equally in kind. Another point for not feeling any sort of contrition for Bruce’s loss. Giving and taking was all relative and wholly unimportant when you were in bed with Clark.  
  
After what could have been their last session of the night, Lex decided he needed a drink, whether they were finished or not. He had no qualms about strolling through the penthouse in all his glory, knowing full well that certain flying rodents might be watching and giving the uninvited voyeur a complete view of his skin, what they’d been doing would be visible and hopefully, like a knife, would turn the blade of guilt deep inside Bruce’s belly.  
  
So, caught up in his thoughts, he was almost startled by Clark’s appearance across the living room. Lex had seen Clark in every way imaginable, but Clark still deigned to cover up before leaving the bedroom. That innate modesty was a trait that Clark would never lose and the fact made Lex happy.  
  
He spoke too soon about the robe and modesty, because Clark was offering himself again. Let the Batman watch. Hopefully, he’d see one of the things he’d missed out on when he had the chance. Lex gingerly straddled Clark’s lap and proclaimed this time to be their last coupling of the night.  
  
Who was he kidding?

* * *

  
Bruce was hovering; picking at anything in hopes of finding the cause for Clark’s change of late. Lex didn’t dream very often and in his wildest ones, he could never have guessed he’d see Bruce Wayne in his office inquiring about how he and Clark got together. This was as close to unraveled as he’d ever seen Bruce.  
  
His eyes had the look of a haunted man. He watched Bruce leave his office, far from defeated. The mail on his desk wasn’t significant. Another invitation to a society function; this one in Metropolis. The other another blank white envelope.

Lex ripped the top off. A card slipped out, Lex read it diligently. ‘How does it end: happily for all or a return to status quo?’  
  
If life had gone his way, he wouldn’t have Clark nearly absent from his life for eight years. He would have been there for Clark when Jonathan died, instead of on the periphery and he would have found similar comfort when his father passed.  
  
Once, there had been a dream. That lonely first Christmas when everything had fallen apart and dissolved between them. He’d been shot, while working through his own mischief. He refused to blame the anesthesia for the vividness of the dream. In that world, he had everything. Clark. Health. Wealth. Family. They were happy . He could clearly identify himself as happy and not temporarily content or satisfied.  
  
It was all so perfect until it unraveled at the end. Clark, brave, beautiful, and fearless went off to face a monster and got himself killed. Then, he woke up. Since, he hadn’t really dreamed. As a second chance, he’d make sure they survived this and the ending would be as it always should have been.

* * *

  
Whenever he saw Lois Lane, he always felt annoyed. Especially seeing her and Bruce Wayne engrossed in a serious conversation. They were plotting, commiserating to bring about the latter half of the card’s postulation.  
  
He found Clark and suggested they retire for the evening. Clark looked as exquisite as ever in a modern and stylishly cut tuxedo. The dark fabric emphasized the perfection of his body and imbued him with a regal air. A prince among men and a former god in the sky; Clark turned a soft genuine smile on Lex, which left him breathless and in a void of time. Lately, Lex’s world began to narrow again between LexCorp, the world, and Clark. The latter occupied his mind with more frequency than the formers.  
  
Trapped beneath the light of his imperfect-perfect smile, Lex grinned and they made their exit. Back in the penthouse, there was a comfortable silence that hung between them. Lex dropped his keys on the end table and stood at the mouth of the Fortier watching Clark watch Metropolis. Many times, he had stood in the spot, just gazing out at his sparkling domain, feeling a sense of pride and loves that only a creator, real or faux, could engender.  
  
The nighttime glow washed Clark’s skin out, giving him a timeless pallor. Starkly beautiful as the top buttons were undone and the light spread onto the skin in the released valley. The hollow of the neck, the one place Lex couldn’t resist kissing. The way the light pooled there, it seemed as though the moonlight had ladled itself into the hollow for him to sup. Supernatural and eerie to complete Clark’s appearance of an ancient statue born to life.  
  
“Penny for your thoughts, “Lex asked.  
  
Clark partially turned his head to gaze at Lex. A small smile curled his lips. “It’s so beautiful.”  
  
“It’s the best view of the city.” The best that Clark could remember anyway. “Sometimes, I feel like all I’ve ever done in my life could be summed up by this view. Spectacular. Beautiful. Real.”  
  
Clark turned to face him fully. Big green eyes latched on to his as he spoke, “We all know you’ve done well. You’re not your father…”  
  
Lex’s heart did a stutter-step. Like cold water in the desert, the words he’d longed for had finally sated the desiccated parts of his soul. “Thank you. You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that.”  
  
“It was time, Lex.” Clark’s gaze returned to the shining world below and Lex joined him in his survey. They were on top of the world, for once standing side by side rather than scrambling for each other’s throats.  
  
“You seem melancholy.”  
  
“I’m not.”  
  
“Then what?” Lex pushed.  
  
“Sometimes, I don’t know…”  
  
“Just say it.”  
  
“It feels too perfect. Sometimes, it feels like something is missing or things are different. Everything fits so well, almost too well.” Clark sighed. “It doesn’t make sense that we fought all those years.”  
  
“Love can be irrational.” Lex kissed his forehead. “Don’t worry. The time is right now and we’ll make it.” The way he smiled at Clark was full of reassurance; enough to shy away whatever doubts Clark might have had and replaced them with the knowledge of what these particular kisses led to.  
  
They didn’t make it to the bedroom. Instead, making love with the lights of the city laminating every touch and droplet of sweat would become Lex’s newly most cherished memory.

* * *

  
The night before he’d reached an important decision. One that he knew would change everything and rectify the past once and for all. After a trip to the safety deposit box and his jeweler, Lex felt confident.  
  
Blocks away from the LexCorp building, his phone rang. It was Mercy, alerting him that there had been a breach and contact had been made by persons of interest. Bruce, he knew before she told him out right. Bruce had finally managed to get to Clark. He snapped his phone shut and revved the engine of his new Bugatti Veyron, earning him even more stares than his car was already receiving.  
  
He considered running the red light until a young sharply dressed mother walked in front of his car marching to the other side with her little girl’s hand firmly clenched in her own. The little girl had a book against her chest that read ‘Spell Book’ in bright red letters and she wore a tiara like a princess. It was cute in a way that only small children could get away with. The Imagination Stage.  
  
He watched them as they passed. Nothing particularly interesting about them, but his mind wouldn’t let go. The answer seeped into his brain with syrup like grace. The stuff of fairy tales, which led to thoughts of spells and magic; both of which were plausible, reasons for his sudden fortune. How did they end? They answered the questions that his scientists and his own scientific inquiries had failed to solve.  
  
Every fairy tale ended with a happily ever after. It was only preceded by the kiss of true love.  
  
The car behind him blew its angry obnoxious horn. He sped through the Metropolis streets. Finding Clark before Bruce was the only way to end this properly.

* * *

  
Lex burst into the penthouse. To his dismay, he immediately found it empty. Clark wasn’t answering his cell phone either. Frustration mounting, Lex searched for anything that could give him a clue to Clark’s location. There on the couch, a white envelope like the ones he received sat open.  
  
In the same scrawl, the words ‘Gotham Park’ taunted him and goaded him to race towards the other city. How many minutes or hours he was behind Clark he didn’t know. His foot pressed down on the gas pedal and ate up the roads leading to the darkness of Metropolis’ sister city.  
  
The box in his jacket pocket pressed against his heart and felt leaden as he raced towards the park. Each passing second the urgency drew and his fervor to find Clark was bordering on desperation.  
  
He reached the park as the sun’s last rays were dragged beneath the horizon. He jogged through the empty park searching for Clark. Lex spotted him eventually near a lone lantern that faced the water’s edge. He slowed down just a tad and opened his mouth to call to Clark, when the brunette’s head picked up and turned to the side.  
  
Bruce emerged from the shadows. Even from Lex’s distance, he could see the man was smiling. There was still time to yell out to interrupt. The weight on his chest was imploring him, but his mouth remained shut.  
  
Lex watched them under the glow of the park lights as the languid seconds passed with first talking and then moving closer. Like a couple embracing in some 1940s romantic drama, the two lovers were reunited. The red velvet felt leaden and hot in his pocket and he turned to walk the way he came.  
  
He’d been walking away from the scene, waiting for it all to dissolve at any moment. Fade to black like his dream. Lex walked off into the darkness of the Gotham City night hoping for oblivion.

* * *

  
Lex sat at his desk, invitation in hand to the Gotham Gala firmly in hand, poised to be opened. It was the only envelope on his desk. Like the dream, the memories of the past few weeks flitted through his mind like moths in a darkened room.  
  
It had been a spell. He wasn’t sure who it was cast by, but he’d been given a taste of what could have been. Now, he knew what he really wanted, and he’d have it one way or another. He simply needed to believe.


End file.
